


modern prometheus

by notmadderred



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, Look It Happened Again, M/M, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21958288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmadderred/pseuds/notmadderred
Summary: Caboose was basically a twenty-sixth century Frankenstein.
Relationships: Lavernius Tucker & Agent Washington, Michael J. Caboose & Lavernius Tucker, Michael J. Caboose/Leonard L. Church
Comments: 14
Kudos: 78





	modern prometheus

**Author's Note:**

> For xadoheandterra on Tumblr! I hope you like my take on Churboose ;)
> 
> Special thanks to bitsby, who stuck with me as I cycled through and trashed various ideas before helping me actually finish up this one.

Caboose was basically a twenty-sixth century Frankenstein.

This was Tucker’s first thought when Caboose, with wide, guilty eyes, stepped in front of the figure on the table in an attempt to hide it from view.

Tucker blinked once, twice when Caboose remained frozen in place. Then he tilted to the side to look around Caboose for a better view, only for the other man to lean with him. “Caboose,” he said, “what the fuck have you done?”

“Nothing!” Caboose said. “I am not doing anything, stupid Tucker.”

Tucker pursed his lips. “Is that so? Because I see a very interesting-looking robot on that table.”

Caboose’s guilt immediately transformed into something akin to concern, his brows furrowing as he glanced briefly behind him. “Um, good-interesting or bad-interesting? Because I-- um, because no reason.”

He sighed. “Move and let me have a better look. Then I’ll tell you if it’s good or bad interesting.”

Caboose shuffled his feet. After several moments, he muttered a soft, “Okay,” and moved out of the way.

Tucker kept his mouth shut, not wanting to shake him up too much seeing as he was already being more forthcoming than he’d expected.

The form lying prone on the table was a familiar cobalt along many of the exterior parts. It was humanoid in the same way Lopez was, but it was more clearly a robot rather than a person in armor. The design was slim -- obviously, Caboose had been working with what spare parts he’d had available without needing to ask. Tangles of wire were open along the joints, as well as a few around the neck. Part of the spinal column was exposed along the torso, and it honestly looked like Tucker could take a baseball bat to that area to shut this whole operation down. As a whole, however, it seemed… workable. Functional, for whatever-the-hell Caboose was planning.

Speaking of which.

He looked back to Caboose, who was now rolling forward and back on his heels, drumming his fingers anxiously against his sides. “It looks really cool, Caboose,” he said, which was God’s honest truth. It _was_ cool. “And I respect you going all modern-Prometheus or whatever-- not that I’ve read that shit ‘cause I’m not a nerd -- but… bringing back something that isn’t actually Church isn’t the same as bringing back our Church.” How many times had he had this talk with Caboose now?

The real question was how many times had he avoided it? Wanted to pretend everything was fine and normal? 

Caboose stared blankly at Tucker, and Tucker began to question whether or not he’d just unnecessarily stomped on a landmine. Then Caboose shook his head and said, “I know who Church is and who Church isn’t now.”

It was Tucker’s turn to be confused. “Do you mind elaborating? If this isn’t another attempt to bring back Church, what is it? Are you trying to build a new friend?”

“No.” Caboose interlaced his fingers in front of him. “I’m bringing back Church.”

Fuck. Tucker sighed. “Look--”

“But not, um, as a soccer ball this time? I thought he’d like a body better.”

“Church is dead, Caboose.” Tucker felt fidgety himself as he looked up into Caboose’s brown eyes. “We talked about that. Remember?”

“Yes, but, um, Loco taught me some things? So I’m gonna bring Church back again.”

For once, Tucker wished Wash was here with him right now. Moments like these sucked so much ass. “You already said good-bye. I don’t-- I don’t get it, okay? Why are you still doing this?”

Caboose moved, walking to the other side of the robot’s body where various machinery sat, some things stacked on each other like a very dangerous version of Jenga. “Because I miss him, and I found out that he misses me, and we are going to be best friends forever.”

Blunt would have to do. “It’s not going to work.”

Caboose gave him a look Tucker couldn’t quite interpret. “Okay,” he said, and turned around. “You are wrong, and that’s okay.”

Okay. Well. “I’m. I’ll be back in a bit Caboose. Don’t do anything drastic.”

Caboose didn't say anything.

Tucker muttered one last quiet, “Fuck,” before running upstairs and out of the storge area.

\----------

“Tucker, it isn’t your fault that this is happening again,” Wash was saying. It didn't exactly make him feel better, not as he led the Freelancer to Caboose, navigating the halls with quick familiarity. “We didn't know this would happen. Besides, giving him free reign to workshop has been good for him overall. Steps back are normal.”

“Are you a fucking therapist?” Tucker snapped, only to instantly regret it. “Nevermind. It’s fine. Whatever.” He pulled at one of his dreads before dropping his hand and balling it into a fist. “I just-- I just _care_ , y’know?”

Wash glanced down at him, his perpetually tired eyes gaining a glint. “I know. So do I.” They reached the stairs, and Wash stopped just short of opening the door. “Thanks for telling me by the way. You don’t have to do this all on your own.”

Tucker narrowed his eyes and cocked his head. “Strange that you, of all people, are telling me that.”

Wash chuckled and glanced at his feet. “Trust me -- I see the irony.”

Then he opened the door and led the way down.

A cacophony of various sounds bounced off the small hallway that the stairs were tunneled in, definitely leaving Tucker with some questions about what exactly Caboose had done in the ten minutes he was alone.

“Stop! I have not fixed the speech module, um -- Lopez said I just had to--” _BANG!_ “--there! Um, I think I got it, yes. Wait, um, I’m not sure if you can stand up I--”

There was a long series of crashing noises that instantly had Wash hurrying his pace, with Tucker bounding down the stairs after him and trying to sneak glances over his head.

“Caboose?” said Wash. “What are you--”

Tucker reached the bottom and rounded around Wash to get a view.

The robot was standing -- kind of. It was leaning heavily against Caboose, one arm slung around his shoulder and the other grabbing at his side. Its legs were completely straight as it apparently attempted to figure out how to bend its knees.

“--doing?” Wash finished.

Caboose paid them no mind, not even seeming to register their appearance. Instead, he patted the robot on the spare parts that made up its back and said, “There, there. I missed you, too.”

“Shut the fuck up!” the robot screeched. “I’m not _hugging_ you, Caboose, I can’t _move_ pr-pr-pr-properly! Fuck!”

Tucker froze. That sounded _exactly_ like…

It wasn’t possible. What had Caboose done?

“Uh huh,” said Caboose, continuing to pat the robot’s back. “Whatever you say, Church.”

“Where the hell did you learn s-s-sarcasm? You’re spending too much time with Tucker, asshole.”

“You’re still my best friend, and that is why you are hugging me.”

“F-f-f-fuck you!” ~~Church’s~~ The robot’s knees bent suddenly, and Caboose easily caught it, hauling it back up. “Shit! Uh, thank you.”

“You are welcome, Church.”

“What the hell?” Wash whispered. “What’s g-- is that--? Hm.”

The thing that may or may not have been Church released a rattling sigh. “Hi, Caboose. It’s… nice seeing you. A- again.”

“Hello,” Caboose replied, a large smile suddenly forming on his face. “It is nice to see you, too. And you are not a soccer ball!”

“I noticed.”

“Also, Wash and Tucker are here.”

“What?!” The robot’s head whipped around, turning a sharp degree on its axis to face the pair. “Uh.” It released one hand from Caboose and tested its weight on its legs experimentally. “H-h-h-hi?”

“This can’t be right,” Tucker babbled, taking several unthinking steps closer. “This isn’t possible. What the fuck? You-- you can’t be Church. Even Caboose can’t will the dead back into life.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Even with a damaged voice module.”

“What d-d-damaged voice module? Also, fuck you, asshole -- I’m--”

“It’s not a machine thing,” said Caboose, moving a step forward with maybe-Church as maybe-Church moved closer. “It’s a time thing. Yeah, his transmitter is still processing the shift. Time moves in circles, so it sounds like he’s on repeat.”

There was a brief silence. 

“I’m confused,” said Wash.

“That’s not news,” said maybe-Church.

“He is Church,” said Caboose.

Tucker took a deep breath. Then another. He could handle this. “Prove it,” he said, which sounded immature but was a perfectly valid route for getting answers.

Maybe-Church’s head did a sharp circle that seemed to parallel a physical eyeroll. “I’ve been back for all of two minutes and y-y-you’re telling m-m-me that--”

“Prove. It,” he repeated.

Caboose bit his lip before delivering a very gentle elbow into the robot’s torso.

“ _Fine_. You always have that ridiculous fucking picture of Junior with his basketball team w-w-wherever the fuck you go. The other kids look fucking _petrified_ \--”

“Dude, everyone on Chorus knows about that picture. You didn't prove shit.”

“Shut up! Do you seriously think I can come up with some random fucking fact off the top of my head th-th-that’ll prove beyond any doubt who I fucking am? Oh, yeah, let me just search my _reservoirs_ for a deep dark fucking _secret_ you told me in _private_ because we were super fucking _close_ even though w-when I was in your head I still barely got _jack shit_ beyond bow-bow-bow-chicka-bow-wows and Wash-level fucking _a- angst_ \--”

Something swelled in Tucker’s chest. “Okay, stop.” Unbidden, a smirk wormed across his face. “I don’t know how, but you’re definitely Church.”

“Can I butt in to say that I’m really not that angsty all the time?”

“No,” Tucker and Church both replied automatically.

“See!” Caboose said, the word practically exploding from his body in excitement. “Church is back!”

This was ridiculous. It made no sense.

Of course, not much in their group made a whole lot of sense, so this theoretically wasn’t new. Even still… “Do I want to know how?”

“I already told you,” Caboose replied, picking up Church despite his squawking protests and setting him back down on the table. “And you are too stupid to understand.”

“Wow,” said Tucker. “That hurts.”

Church made an annoyed, jittering noise that resembled a sputtering engine. “We don’t give a fuck. And thanks f-for the welcome back, assholes.”

“Welcome?” said Wash.

“Yeah, no,” said Tucker. “I’m gonna leave you and Caboose to your rated R reunion and pretend none of this happened seeing as it’s happened like a million times before already.”

“R for fun?” asked Caboose.

Church shifted where he now sat, flexing his robotic fingers and gently swinging his legs. “Fun doesn’t start with ‘r’, Caboose.”

“I know, but Tucker says that rated R means fun and that the fun is--”

Tucker began laughing as Church’s spine went ramrod straight, his voice modulator now releasing a droning buzz. 

Wash grabbed Tucker’s arm and began pulling him back upstairs. “C’mon,” he said, his voice tight. A quick look confirmed that he was blushing big-time. When Tucker laughed harder, the blush deepened, and his hold tightened. “Really?” he bit out.

“Bow-chicka--”

“Shut up!” Church screeched from behind them.

Tucker allowed Wash to lead him the rest of the way out of the basement, letting his laughs run free the rest of the way.

\----------

Church frankly had no idea what to say. To be fair, he often rarely did, yet he managed to talk just fine anyway. Insults were easy. Talking to the guy who basically saved your life again and expected nothing from you and genuinely cared about you and was actually emotionally intelligent unlike your artificial ass was far more difficult. There was no right thing to say. There also wasn’t a completely wrong thing to say, seeing as this was Caboose who he was talking to, and Caboose always somehow managed to read the meaning in every fucking word out of Church’s mouth, regardless if it was a scathing insult or half-assed comment.

“Um,” he said. “Uh, right.”

“Yes?” said Caboose. He moved to stand in front of where Church was sitting back on the table.

Fuck. “To clarify, that really wasn’t a hug. I fell. Actually. That was. That was true.”

Caboose watched him. “Yes. But you liked it.”

“I did _not_ say that, Caboose.”

“You like hugs.”

Church groaned and rolled his head back. “You know what? Yes. I do. But I’m also a robot and can’t actually feel anything, hugs included.”

Caboose pouted. “I’m sorry, Church. I did my best when I made your body, but--”

“Shit-- no, I meant-- fuck. Don’t say you’re sorry. It’s fine. It’s-- good. I appreciate what you did because it was a lot. I was just being an asshole, okay?”

Fuck, he hated this. He really fucking hated this.

Even still, part of him was still recoiling from the fact that he was back, still in shock by his current state and not quite able to accept its reality.

“You’re a good friend,” Caboose said, his sincerity spilling out with every syllable.

Church didn't deserve this. “I dunno about that,” he replied, “but I can try to be.” He hummed. “I, uh. Yeah. I’m gonna try. For you, Caboose.”

“That is very nice of you, Church,” Caboose responded, beaming. “You’re my best friend, so I really appreciate that.”

Jesus Christ. “Right. I’m just gonna…” Church leaned forward, dropping his feet to the floor, and awkwardly put his arms around Caboose’s neck. “This is an intentional hug.”

Caboose squealed, wrapped his arms around Church, picked him up, and began spinning around. “Thank you Church I love hugs I especially love your hugs because you are great and my best friend yes!”

Church couldn’t help the small, hysterical fit of laughter that escaped him. “You’re welcome, Caboose. And, uh, I love you? I-- I think I-- uh, needed to tell you that. Oh, fu--”

“I love you too, Church!” Caboose practically yelled, holding Church out at arm’s length so he could see that impossibly wide smile.

Church kind of wished he could smile, too.

Instead, his voice modulator released a long, whirring hum.

Caboose pulled him back in once more.

Church tucked his head into Caboose’s shoulder and pretended to breathe.

\----------

“Church and Caboose are fucking right now?” Donut said, his tone entirely even. “Did I just hear Tucker right?”

“For once, yes,” Tucker said, snapping his fingers and pointing at him. “The bastard has done it again.”

“They aren’t-- _that_ ,” said Wash, “but Caboose did bring back Church again. It’s… kinda weird, not gonna lie. I get some “Persona Ex Machina” vibes from Church.”

Simmons’ head whipped up. “Like the movie or the short story? I honestly don’t know which would be worse to meet in person, but--”

“Like _neither_ , that was a terrible comparison,” Tucker automatically interrupted. “Church isn’t fucking Ava _or_ Tessa. But Deck’s story totally showed the movie what the fuck is really up--”

“I know, right!” Simmons replied. “He totally turned that movie inside-out in the best way possible! I mean -- wait, you _know_ about the short story?”

“What? No. What short story?”

“HELLO!”

Everyone’s attention turned to Caboose, who had miraculously emerged to save Tucker’s desperate ass.

The robot that was Church (nothing like either version of the machine -- Tessa _or_ Ava) had a hand on Caboose’s shoulder, appearing to be balancing himself. 

“Hello!” Donut replied to Caboose, obviously attempting to match his enthusiasm. “Is that Church with you?”

“I c-can speak for myself!” Church spat as Caboose responded in the same moment with, “Yes, and we love each other!”

“I’m sorry -- what’s happening?” Carolina added, her confused expression briefly reminding Tucker of Wash.

“Your not-dad is gay,” Grif drawled around a mouthful of Cheetos.

“I’m still kind of stuck on the Church-is-back-again part of things,” Simmons added.

“Dude, this happens every other season. I don’t know why this time is so shocking.”

“I didn't say it was shocking, I said--”

“He looks like he was made in the twenty-second century,” Grif continued, completely ignoring Simmons. “So unrealistic. And super thin too.” He perked up suddenly. “Heh, almost as skinny as he would be human. No muscle to him.”

“What the f-f-fuck! Are you skinny-shaming me, fatass?”

“Are you fat-shaming me, slim-jim?”

“Amazing to see that nothing has changed,” Wash said, sounding tired again.

“Except that Church and I are in love,” Caboose stated.

“So nothing’s changed,” Wash reiterated.

“I think I need a minute,” said Carolina.

“I need a picture of this canon Churboose moment!” Donut announcing, procuring a camera from who-the-fuck knew where.

“Pictures!” cried Caboose, instantly picking up Church. Church yowled once but otherwise offered no complaint, even going so far as to publicly wrap his arms around Caboose’s neck. “Perfect for Christmas!”

“I’m Jewish,” Church interrupted, the words twisting as though he were smiling.

“You’re an artificial intelligence program.”

“That’s Jewish,” Church rebutted.

“Say ‘cheese!’”

Caboose planted a kiss on the metal that paralleled Church’s forehead.

Church sputtered, endless in his inability to anticipate Caboose’s affection, before nestling further into Caboose’s hold. 

Tucker ducked his head to hide his smile.

He always did like a happy ending.


End file.
